Moving On
by Ingram
Summary: Fifteen years after the final defeat of Cobra at the hands of GI Joe, an author sets out ot obatin an oral history of the war from both sides.
1. Destro and the Baroness

_The Trans-Carpathian Mountains are not a place of beauty, at least if your not a Stephen King fan or you enjoy jagged peaks, ragged pine forests and fog enshrouded swampland. But here in the newly renovated halls of Castle Destro, it's easy to forget the landscape outside, especially after I'm led into a beautifully landscaped atrium by my hosts for a mid-afternoon tea-time. Its hard to imagine that just ten years ago one was a prolific arms dealer and the other was one of the worlds most wanted terrorists._

_The Baroness Anastasia DeCobray, who even in her fifties retains an aura of severe beauty looks the same as the old file photo I pulled out of her FBI file, except for a few wisps of grey hair on her temples. Lord James McCullen Destro, who seems to have long since abandoned the silver and gold battle masks, looks more like a retired country squire than anything else, his broad features easily wearing a self confident smile. _

Baroness: I trust your trip wasn't too dreadful? We do our bests to keep the roads in order around here, but the government is quite disgustingly corrupt; any penny we try and put towards road development tends to get siphoned off into someone's new summer home on the Baltic.

Destro: My wife is a bit harsh on the local government, I'm afraid; the dreadful winters we have up here are more to blame than someone raiding the fisc to pay for a mistress or two. But in any case, I suspect our friend didn't travel all the way up here to talk about road conditions in the Trans-Carpathian Mountain region.

_The Baroness looks me with a steely blue eyed gaze, and Destros smile fades slightly as he takes on a more serious expression. I suddenly remember the file I'd read on both of the, and I become uncomfortably aware that I'm setting in a room with two people who have a combined body count that runs into the hundreds._

Baroness: I know you told us what you were writing about in our phone conversations. but would you mind telling us again? And would you mind if _we_ record this interview as well? _She waves to indicate a pair of surveillance cameras mounted in the ceiling, as well as several carefully placed directional microphones._

"_No problem, of course. But to restate my purposes for the interview; I'm putting together an oral history of the members of the now decommissioned US Special Forces unit known as GI JOE and their main adversary, the Terrorist Organization COBRA, after the fighting between them ceased in the early 1990's. Uhh… nothing said in these interviews will be used against the interviewees, and…all interview transcripts are subject to approval of the client prior to publishing."_

_Destro and the Baroness look at each other, and burst out laughing._

Baroness: If you're an intelligence agent. You're a much better actor than I would give the CIA credit for turning out.

Destro: Quite; you'll have to forgive our paranoia, my friend. We're rather enjoying our quiet re-retirement (_chuckles)_ and I have no desire to wind up in that insufferable prison your government maintains in Cuba for the rest of my years.

Baroness: So, where do you wish to start?

_If you could just tell me what the two of you have been up too since your "Re-retirement"_

Destro: Ah, I see. I'm afraid you won't be to impressed my friend. We haven't been leading columns of Demon Tanks and Nullifiers into every world wide hotspot we can find, if that's what your looking for; I decommissioned almost all of my old forces not long after the fall of Cobra Island, when I was sure I wouldn't have to worry about Cobra Commander coming to give my new home the same treatment he did the old one.

_Destro waves at the two uniformed and armed Iron Grenadiers guarding the door_,

So nothing too exciting then, but we have been keeping busy in other ways…

_The former arms dealer smiles broadly and looks at Baroness._

_You mean your children?_

Baroness:_ (laughs)_ I suppose it is so terribly clichéd isn't it? Settling down, having a few kids, and living life anew? Well, cliché or not, that's what's happened. Phillip and Mary…

Destro: They're both away and preparatory school in France right now, otherwise I'm quite sure they'd be even more eager to talk to you than you are to us, just to find out what it was their parents were getting up too in their pasts.

_You haven't told them?_

Baroness: As little as possible. They know a few stories, but thank god we still haven't got our own Wikipedia pages yet _(rolls her eyes)_

Destro: We're not trying to shut them out, by any means, but we try and keep things to a minimum. We both firmly believe that it's more important they know who we are now than who we were in the past. Especially when…when the past is as checkered as ours is.

Baroness: It's…every day, I think about all the lives I've managed to wreck, all the people I'd killed; all of them in some form of combat or another, mind you, but still…especially when Destro told me…told me the truth about what had happened to my brother and I realized I'd just wasted half my life playing avenging terrorist for no reason.

Destro: That's the worst I have to deal with, well, the waste of it all. In my youth I was too obsessed with arms sales and profit margins to see the long run, and when I finally did, it was almost too late.

"_Have either of you tried to make amends?"_

Destro: No. I never saw the point in it. The world is fast forgetting us, my friend. Anything we do to try and help the people whose lives we shattered in our pasts will only reopen all the old wounds and shatter them anew, rending apart whatever healing those we've hurt have managed to do for themselves.

_There's a long silence, and then I ask my final question:_

"_Do either of you have any idea about the status of the man known as Cobra Commander?"_

Destro: No. And I hope he's quite dead. The man was nothing but a misery, enough to make this Bin Laden fellow look like Florence Nightingale.


	2. Flint

_Webster Groves is a small suburb nestled just outside of St. Louis that has still somehow managed to keep out the normal run of suburban sprawl; there are no massive strip malls or housing developments, and the nearest scattering of "big box" stores is located down highway 44. Locally, Webster is famous for the left wing political views of the people that live there, so I was very surprised to learn that one of the toughest officers of the GI JOE Team, the green beret known as "Flint", lives there. He's insisted I use his code name for our interviews. His wife of many years, the former Joe known as "Lady Jaye" does not wish to be interviewed and is out right now. Flint and I meet behind his large two story house on the expansive deck built into it._

The reason I got out of the army? I guess what it boils down to is disgust; I was in for almost fifteen years, and most of it was with the Joes. The GI JOE team was the most outstanding group of soldiers ever assembled, bar none. That's not arrogance talking, you understand, but the truth. There isn't a single Joe I wouldn't stack up against anyone else in their MOS*, or even their sub MOS*; hell, that tells you something right there doesn't it? You know how many military units insist their troops are qualified in more than one Military specialty?

_Flint holds up a hand with thumb and index finger curled to make a "0"_

That's how good we were. But after Cobra Island II, we decommission, and off I go to the regular army again. And first thing that happens is some scumbag lieutenant colonel calls me into his office and tell me to forget all that "GI JOE garbage" and that things were different in _his_ army. And I realized he was right. With the Joe's gone, all that was left was the giant corporation we have that occasionally masquerades as an army instead of a sales team for Lockheed Martin. This guy was a west pointer, all set to make general, and retire to a nice job with Blackwater or whoever, and I realize that it really _was_ his army. A nice suit and tie operation; except the suit and tie happen to be dark green. I went home that night, talked it over with Allison and the next night I resigned my commission and mustered out ASAP. Since then I've been keeping to myself; I managed to parlay my GI Bill into a nice loan to open up a nice couple of restaurants, which have done well enough, as you could probably guess.

_Flint waves at the house, the two car garage, and carefully manicured lawn._

Hell I even tried to get Road Black to come on as head chef, but some restaurant down in New Orleans snapped him up right out of the army.

_We chat on for awhile, sipping on our diet cokes, until things grow quiet. Now seems a good time to ask: "Do you still bear any resentment towards your old enemies in COBRA?"_

Flint: _(laughs)_ You're not the first one to ask, and the answer, I'm afraid, is a story. When we first moved in here, I thought I recognized one of my neighbors. I didn't think anything of it at the time; things were hectic, moving stuff into the house, getting the kids settled, etcetera, so I pretty much forgot about it. That week, someone threw us a welcome to the neighborhood party; it was great, really. All of these strangers coming up to introduce themselves, their kids playing with ours, beer and hot dogs flowing like water, a real American party, right?(_laughs_) I ask around between all the introductions and I find out the party was put together by the guy I thought I knew, and it turns out his name is Fred Broca (Fred Broca was a popular pseudonym among the Crimson Guard-the elite troops and spies of the COBRA group), I think you can imagine my reaction to that-I went looking for this Siege* with blood in my eye. He found me first. He said he knew who I was, and that he understood if I wanted to take him down. I almost did too; I actually was planning to knock this guy out and drag him down to the police station, and god only knows how that would have went!

But I stopped for a second and realized that my reaction was more out of habit than any real animosity. I looked around at Jaye and the kids; I looked over at this old COBRA and asked him if he had a family. He said yes, and indicated a good looking woman and a pair of teenagers mingling at the party. He said that he'd met them after he'd been assigned to the area by COBRA command; he said they didn't know he was a Crimson Guardsmen, they didn't know a thing about COBRA and I actually believed him, he was so earnest; it's a good thing too, because he was telling the truth.

Anyway, I looked him in the eye; he told me that COBRA was finished, the Commander was gone, and the war we'd been fighting for so long was over. He said he'd hoped that he could just live out the rest of his life in peace, put his past behind him, and just live life, y'know? But then I showed up, and he knew his past was going to catch up with him and he was going to have to suffer the consequences of his actions. I asked him why he hadn't just fled when I moved in, bugged out as quick as possible for the hill or something. He said that he couldn't just leave his family, and he couldn't tear apart their lives because of his past. That he looked me in the eye and said "Just make it look like an accident."

_Flint shakes his head._

It was at that point that I realized I had a choice, keep living my life the way the US Government wanted me too, or act like a Joe. A good US citizen would have either killed that ex-spy or turned him in. A good Joe would have used his head and come to what he thought was the right decision. My head told me that COBRA was gone and whatever happened, this guy was harmless now. I told him that I appreciated the party, the food was great, and I asked him if he wanted to grab a beer and talk about the old times. You should have seen the look on his face; it was truly priceless. We've been getting along well since then, in fact, you should see us on Halloween. Both of us in our old uniforms, walking down the street; the kids around here love it, the parents think its funny to see these too old guys dress up for Halloween, but the two of think of it as a kind of symbol, a private treaty, almost. Our war's over, and we can live in peace.

_Flint snorts in disdain._

It's not like the world's going to lack for wars nowadays, is it?

*Military Operating Specialty

*Siege- Pronunciation of the words C-G for "Crimson Guard"


	3. The Dreadnoks

_Normally, Sturgis South Dakota is the picture perfect definition of a quiet, one horse town of under 5,000 people. But in the first weeks of August the population explodes as thousands of motorcycle enthusiasts from all over the world flock for the legendary "Black Hills Run"; they range from retirees and dentists on massive Honda Gold Wings to stunt riders on top of the line Ducati's to hardened bikers on chopped Harley's. The fringe element is here as well, the notorious "One-Percent" of bikers who are considered "outlaws"; biker clubs like the Bandidos, Mongols, Sons of Silence, Los Valientes and the notorious Hells Angels can all be found riding the streets en mass. But even these tough, dangerous men give a wide birth to the relatively small gathering at the farthest reaches of the main biker campground. They number a mere five members, but what they lack in numbers, they make up for in reputation. _

_They're the Dreadnoks._

_Since their former leader disappeared, the original core of the Dreadnok gang, Buzzer, Ripper and Torch along with Monkeywrench and Thrasher, have been living like nomadic bikers, constantly crisscrossing the highways of the US. Sturgis is just one of the many stops they make each year._

Buzzer: I dunno' really. We did kinda lost some direction when Zartan up an' disappeared, but really, we're just livin' like we did before 'e press-ganged us into Cobra.

Ripper: Yeah. We prefer it this way really. No bloody loon in a chrome mask yellin' at us an' callin' us idiots every three seconds. Makes for a much less stressful workin' environment, it does.(_laughs_)

_So is it safe to say that you guys feel like you're doing better since the end of Cobra and Zartan?_

_The Dreadnoks fall silent and glare at me. I suddenly remember that I'm alone amongst a crowd of dangerous outlaws. Monkeywrench lunges across the table and hauls me up by my shirt collar._

Monkeywrench: Don't talk about the boss that way! He ain't gone, you got that! He's just away for awhile.

_Ok! I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it!_

_Monkey wrench lets go of my collar and drops me back down into my chair._

Thrasher: You need to learn to watch your mouth there, reporter-boy. We aren't all as forgiven' as ol' Monkeywrench. Now to answer your question, yeah things are a bit easier now that we ain't with Cobra no more, but in a lot of other ways they suck ass.

_What do you mean?_

Thrasher: No more bleedin' paychecks for one. You 'ave any idea how much we got paid by Zartan? A lot! And all for breakin' things an' hurtin' folks. (_laughs_) Nothin' beats gettin' paid to do something you'd be doing anyway.

_All the Dreadnoks laugh at this comment._

Buzzer: Sides' Cobra had some bang up lawyers on retainer…bit easier back then to get out of a jam then it is now, let me tell you!

_So do you guys have any idea where Zanzibar, Gnawhyde and Roadpig are?_

_(Collective shrug)_

Torch: No, and I don't want to find out neither. Them three are bloomin' insane.

Absolutely bonker's I mean. 'Sides it's ain't like we have an alumni news letter or somethin'. Guys like them an' us, we just kinda come and go, and eventually we just move on entirely.

Buzzer: (rolls eyes) Right bloody philosopher you are, y'know that Torch?

_Torch snarls in outrage and throws a beer bottle at Buzzer. The other three laugh and Buzzer throws himself at his fellow Dreadnok, and the fight begins. I take that as my cue to leave._


	4. Major Bludd

_Authors Note: If anybody has a favorite character (or list of chracters) they'd like to see featured in this series, PM me or put it in a review._

_Somewhere in the eastern provinces of Iraq-_

_The settlement ahead is what we in the United States would call a "One Horse town"; less than three thousand inhabitants, a few shops, a theatre, a mosque or two. It sits in the "fertile crescent" near the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, so it also serves as a major market town for the local farmers too sell their produce. And, due to its location, is a prime route for weapons smugglers from nearby Iran to slip into Iraq with explosives and other munitions for their Shi'ite allies._

_Despite the proximity of the border, the region is quiet._

_The reason being, as near as I can discern is that the American development firm in the area hired an Austrian private military company(PMC) which in turn hired one Sebastian Bludd to lead the security forces in the region._

_Since he took over the area in late 2006, insurgent activity has fallen to a standstill._

_Trickling out of the province have come rumors of the reasons; crackdowns, martial law enforced by pain of death, mass executions, disappearances and bodies of Iranian smugglers placed on public display by the road._

_On the way into town my driver, who met me at the edge of this territory and said he'd been sent by Bludd himself, did not speak a word to me._

_I asked him why we didn't have an armed escort like I'd been given during my other trips through the Iraqi countryside._

_he smiled sadly and said in fairly good English,_

"Sir, there is no one left alive who would dare too attack a traveler in the Majors Domain."

_He was silent for the rest of the trip._

_A few minutes later, we pulled up in front of a heavily fortified and guarded walled complex in the center of town._

_I met with Major Bludd in his office, a massive room who's windows had been covered with sandbags. It was clear by the security precautions that the local population bore the one eyed mercenary little love._

Author: Well, as you know, I'm here to interview you for a book I'm writing about the conflict between the GI Joe team and COBRA…nothing you say will be used against you…"

Major Bludd: *Laughing* "Oh I am quite unbothered by the prospect of legal entanglements, mate"

Author: "But…you're a wanted war criminal…not to mention the vendetta pursued against you by GI Joe since the killing of General Flagg."

MB: "You think I would have poked my head up if all that nonsense was still a worry? the Joes have 'ad their wings clipped. Harmless as a milk cow, aren't they? As for the war crimes…you think I'd have landed this cushy gig fi they were a problem?"

A: "So you've cleared your name?"

MB: 'Hardly, Just that I know where a few bodies are buried…or mire than a few, come to think of it. That the great thing about being the grave digger I suppose."

A: "So you've been continuing your mercenary work?"

MB: "Hardly likely to make a go of it in the stocks and bonds business am I? And while poetry is my passion, but it doesn't pay the pills quite like bloodshed. Mores the pity…"

A: "Obviously I won't ask from specifics, but since COBRA dissolved, have you been working for…Nato governments?"

MB: "That would be telling, wouldn't it?" *Winks*

A: "So…business has been good?"

MB: "Brilliant. There's more money to be made working private than there was ever to be made working for COBRA. A lot more; and it's tax free."

A: "Why did you wrok for COBRA in the first place than?"

MB: *shrugs* "That's where the money was, wasn't it? Nowadays, it a new world order. No more cold war for all the arms companies to make money off of, so they have to start investing."

A: "Investing?"

MB: "In wars, idiot. You think that half the world is at the others half's throat by coincidence? You think that even the bloody human nature can keep Pakistan at India's throat or Zaire in civil war? You don't think it's odd that peace hasn't managed to break out _in one single place since 1992_?"

A: "So you're saying that arms companies have been stoking international conflicts to stoke sales?"

MB: "Of course not. Just remarking on the odd vagaries of human nature. Besides, you think a bit of genocidal conflict in some African backwater could keep a company like Macdonald Douglas or an arms industry like the one on Czechoslovakia running? You'd need a big, nasty war with no foreseeable end to do something like that. Of course since that would never happen." _Major Bludd sends a meaningful look at the map of Iraq attacked to the wall of his office._

A: "And…what role would you see for yourself in that, Major?"

MB: "At the moment? Just enjoying the fruit of hard work well done, my friend. Say, would you like to hear a bit of poetry?"


	5. Lifeline

_Los Angeles, California_

_The LA county hospital has one of the busiest trauma wards in the country, with a steady influx of gunshot victims from the violent gang wars that still rage through Los Angeles' impoverished Hispanic and African American neighborhoods._

_In charge of the overworked and embattled hospitals EMS services is Greg Scoot, formerly known as "Lifeline" of the GI Joe team._

Lifeline: "You're gonna have to make this quick, I'm afraid, we've got a load of trauma cases coming in from a domestic dispute. The cops are still standing off with a gunman at the scene, but as soon as they clear it, things are gonna get real busy around here."

Author: "I could come back at a better time…"

L: "There are no 'better times' kid. I had less work as a combat medic than I ever did here."

A: "Well.. could you give your thoughts on your time with GI Joe?"

L: "Hectic, nightmarish and the greatest years of my life. It was an honor to serve with them."

A: "Could you be more…specific?"

L: "Not really. Patient doctor confidentiality, so I won't and can't give you any specifics. But let's just say it's awe-inspiring to patch a guy up and have him barely back on his feet again before he's fighting you to get back out into the battle line alongside his buddies."

A: "That sounds like the Joes."

L: "It better."

A: "So you've been here since the team disbanded?"

L: "Yep. Tried to get back unto EMS in New York, but they didn't have any openings…I applied in few other cites but when LA County saw my experience with battle wounds, they made an offer I'd have been idiotic to refuse. It's good work, I save a lot of lives…the problem is a lot of the kids here are just as eager to get back out unto their battlefields as the Joes were."

A: "You mean the gang members?"

L: *snorts in derision* "Sure. Most of them are scared kids, asshole. Scared kids with guns and no idea how else to act."

A: "So you, a pacifist, sympathize with violent criminals?"

L: "I don't approve of their behavior, moron. But I understand it. Most of them have no opportunity, no family and no hope. If they stuck you or me in a situation like these guys had growing up, you think we'd have turned out any different?"

A: "I don't know."

L: "At least you can admit it to yourself. Anyway, if you want to talk about gangbangers, why don't you look up Law down at the LAPD Rampart Division?"

_An Alarm in Lifeliens cluttered office starts to ring, and he jumps to his feet._

L: "I bet you can make your own way out."


End file.
